


My Gold Medal Skater

by VintageOT5



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluffy, M/M, based on 2014 sochi olympics, larry stylinson - Freeform, male figure skating, okay very fluffy, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VintageOT5/pseuds/VintageOT5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve years. It had been twelve long years of training and competing and practicing and skating, all about to pay off at the Sochi Winter Games. This is what they'd worked for for more than half of Harry's life, and still all Coach Louis Tomlinson could concentrate on was how fucking good Harry looked in his skating costume.</p><p>Or the one where Louis is a besotted figure skating coach of a young Harry Styles, who is fresh on the scene, and Zayn Malik is the all-time reigning champion with an Irishman coach and a cute boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Gold Medal Skater

**Author's Note:**

> This one shot derived from my wonderings of what Louis' ass would look like in a men's figure skating costume. No joke. Enjoy.

"Please, Coach?"

 "You just finished warming up, you need to get your head in the game."

 "But Coach--"

 "The answer is no, Harry." 

"But Coach, it's _Zayn Malik_! He's an absolute legend!"

 "You'll be a legend yourself if you get into focus right now and get ready to smash your routine!"

"Please, Louis? Pleeeease?" Harry Styles begged, clasping his hands together and pouting with big puppy eyes. 

Louis Tomlinson clenched his jaw, doing his very best to look at his student and simultaneously not look at him. Not see the big, bright green eyes that could suck anyone in, not see the full, perfect pouting lower lip, not see the utter attractiveness that seemed to fill in every inch of his face. It was a lot harder to ignore than it ought to be, though. He ground his teeth together; bloody hell, he shouldn't be concerned with any of this. He'd known Harry since the kid was only eight, when Louis had become his coach. He'd known him for twelve fucking years, and he'd be damned if he ever let Harry find out that he had developed quite the full-blown crush on his student.

 He finally sighed, looking away and feeling completely ashamed that he was letting him do this.

 "If you aren't back here, getting into focus, the very second after Malik's routine is over..." Louis threatened.

 And immediately Harry's green eyes were sparkling, and he lunged forward and tangled his arms around Louis' neck in a clumsy hug. "Oh, thank you thank you thank you! Wow, Zayn Malik, I get to see _the_ Zayn Malik! You're the best, Coach, you're really the best!"

 Louis gulped as Harry's body pressed flush against his as he continued to hug him. This was not a good position; no, it certainly was not. Harry's costume was extremely thin and tight to give him the advantage out on the ice, and Louis swore he could feel every single contour of Harry's body against his.

 He gently pushed the boy away and nodded curtly.

 "Go on, then. Don't miss it."

 Harry suddenly frowned, reaching out and grabbing Louis' hand in his. "You didn't think I was going alone, did you?"

 Louis rolled his eyes, fervently pretending he wasn't ecstatic about Harry holding his hand. "I've seen Zayn Malik compete before, you go."

 Harry scowled, tugging on Louis' hand and starting to walk. "Not without you. Come on, what are best friends for?"

 "We aren't best friends, I'm your coach," Louis protested as he let Harry drag him along without any resistance. He told Harry this all the time, and it was true. All they did was practice and train together. And then sometimes hang out afterwards and see a movie. Or sometimes grab a bite to eat before or after practice. Or sometimes show up at each other's personal events, like birthdays and Christmas and Thanksgiving.

 Okay, so maybe Louis was kidding himself.

 Harry grinned like every other time Louis said this. "Yeah, okay, Lou'."

 Cutting through the cameras and the other spectators in the competitor's section, the two of them tried their best to find a good spot to watch out of everyone's way.

 "Ohmigod, there he is," Harry whispered excitedly as a dark-haired, dark-eyed man with mocha-colored skin and considerable stubble stood by the wall of the rink, pulling his skate guards off. Louis watched as the man took a few deep breaths, silently moving his shoulders and arms just the slightest bit, as if unwittingly practicing the way his jumps and spins should go. He looked like the definition of cool and calm, but his eyes showed just how nervous he really was.

 "You're ready, mate, I know y'are."

 A blonde man in a Great Britain jacket was speaking to Zayn in a thick Irish accent.

 "That's Niall Horan, oh god, my heart, _Niall Horan_ ," Harry hissed in Louis' ear, and Louis grinned and shushed him.

 Zayn blinked a few times, nodding and taking deep breaths. Niall put his hands on Zayn's shoulders and started saying a couple of instructions quietly.

 "Damn, no wonder Zayn Malik's the reigning champ. His coach is _Niall Horan_ ," Harry breathed in awe.

 "You sound like you'd rather have that old Irishman for a coach than me," Louis teased, pretending to look wounded. In truth, Louis honestly didn't have any real love for Niall Horan. He and Niall had known each other back before they coached when they both used to compete, and Niall had always been able to land his triple axel with just that much more grace and poise than Louis ever had. And the man was so obnoxious and loud and, well, Irish.

 Harry made a face and bumped Louis' hip with his own. "Never. I mean, he was a legend himself back when he competed, but you were better."

 "Flattery, flattery," Louis tsked, pretending to be unimpressed. Harry just giggled.

 " _Representing Spain in the short program...Zayn Malik_."

 The Irish coach reached up and grabbed Zayn's head, pressing their foreheads together.

 "Go kill 'em, hero, before your boyfriend has an annurism."

 Louis chuckled when he caught sight of another brunette young man standing off to the side observing the scene, arms crossed protectively across his chest and brown eyes wide with nerves. Louis watched Zayn turn and look at the man, and Zayn smiled just the teeniest bit and blew a small kiss towards him. The man smiled blankly, still looking nervous out of his mind.

 Zayn turned and stepped onto the ice, gliding effortlessly out across the rink, seeming to completely ignore the absolutely crazy cheering of the crowd. It didn't matter that the Olympics were in the middle of Russia; everywhere he went, Zayn Malik was the fan favorite.

 "This could be his third Olympic gold right now," Harry whispered excitedly as Zayn circled the ice pensively before settling into his starting position.

 "It won't be," Louis said automatically. "The gold is yours."

 Harry scoffed, but didn't have time to reply before the music for Zayn's short program started up. The rock music was lazy almost, slow but still punchy. Sexy music, really. Of course; it was Zayn's routine, after all.

 But damn, could the man skate. He moved stealthily as a snake across the ice, looking lithe and strong as a panther in every single move. Wow. Louis took a deep breath in and out, applauding with everyone else as Zayn landed his first jump sequence, a triple lutz into a triple toe loop. If he weren't so completely enamored by Harry, Louis would be head-over-heels for the guy. Every move the man made practically screamed "sin on skates". The shade of plum of his shirt most certainly wasn't helping tone it down, either.

 "Come on, Malik, don't under-rotate," Louis heard Niall muttering. He turned his head and saw Niall standing at the edge of the rink, his arms crossed over his chest and a tense look on his face. Just next to him, he saw Zayn's boyfriend watching on, barely breathing, with his hands over his mouth.

 "Oh my god, how am I going to compete after this?" Harry breathed, watching as Zayn effortlessly pulled out of a perfect flying camel spin.

 Now that, Louis simply would not tolerate. "Hey."

 He forcibly turned Harry around by the shoulders to face him. Harry looked down at him, and the same nerves that had just been in Zayn's eyes started to show now in Harry's. Louis felt a twinge, hating seeing Harry like this. It wasn't right.

 So Louis smiled encouragingly. "You've been training for this day, this moment, for the last twelve years. I remember you telling me when you were eight that you wanted to compete in the Olympics one day, and here you are. You've worked for this for so long, and your work is going to pay off. I've never let you quit. I've never let you get too hard on yourself unless you needed the push. And I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that if you go out there and give it your all, you can even kick Zayn Malik's ass with your short program."

 Harry still looked completely wrecked, and Louis couldn't help lifting one of his hands and gently cupping Harry's face.

 "You are my gold medal skater, and I will never stop believing in you."

 The crowd all around them started cheering as Zayn pulled off a quadruple jump, but neither of them really took notice. Louis couldn't help the jab in his chest he got when Harry's eyes flicked down to Louis' lips. He watched the tip of Harry's tongue peek out of his mouth, wetting his own lips.

 "Lou'?"

 "Yeah?"

 "I, um. I kinda need to...tell you something."

 The crowd exploded as Zayn's music ended and Zayn lifted his face to the ceiling and pumped his fist victoriously. They both turned around and started applauding him, watching him skate back after all his bows and waves and nearly gallop off the ice and barrel right towards Niall.

"Way to go, buddy! That was absolutely perfect!" Niall exclaimed, hugging Zayn tightly before backing away and slapping Zayn proudly on the shoulder. "Way to kill 'em!"

 Zayn laughed a little and turned when his boyfriend inched closer. Zayn wasted absolutely no time, just scooped the man up into his arms and kissed him full on the mouth. Cameras all around them were flashing like mad as he backed away just a little and grinned like an idiot.

 "How'd I do, Liam?" Zayn asked the man playfully.

 The man, Liam, looked like he was about to burst into tears. "I nearly had a heart attack every single time you jumped. But you did it, baby, I'm so proud!"

 Ugh, all the love and starry heart eyes in the room was disgusting. Louis turned to Harry, a stern look on his face.

 "Go get focused, Styles. Now," he ordered Harry, pointing back the way they'd come.

 Harry sighed, watching as Zayn and Liam shared another disgustingly adorable kiss, and turned and walked in the direction Louis pointed with reluctance. Louis shook his head. That was the last thing he needed right now, mushy romantic couples. He knew full well he could never have the boy he truly wanted: his student.

 Instead of automatically following Harry, though, Louis stayed behind to watch as Zayn and Niall and Liam walked past him and to the scoring seat, waiting for the numbers. As much as he hated to admit it, Louis had seen absolutely nothing wrong with Zayn's performance. It had been practically perfect. But he'd been encouraging Harry some of the time, so maybe he'd missed some major flaw. He took a deep breath, crossing his fingers as he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. He hoped he'd missed a flaw. He really, really hoped. If Zayn hadn't, he knew that it'd be extremely difficult for Harry to get a score only just high enough to beat Zayn out. It wasn't that he didn't believe in Harry; hell, he believed in Harry more than he'd ever believed in Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, and Peter Pan combined. But there was no way around it; Zayn Malik was champion for a reason.

 " _May I have the scores, please._ "

 Louis watched as Zayn, still catching his breath from his performance, sat between Niall and Liam. He gripped Liam's hand, and Niall leaned his elbows onto his knees, all three of their eyes trained diligently on the scoreboard.

 " _The short program score for Zayn Malik from Spain..._ "

 The whole arena fell completely silent. Louis started praying to any deity that might hear him that it would be a low score. Please, please, please let it be a low score.

  _"One hundred and one point seven five four."_

Louis' eyes bugged in absolutely flabbergasted shock. What? Surely he'd heard wrong. No one had ever gotten a score higher than a hundred. Hell, no one had ever even gotten a hundred.

 The crowd went absolutely crazy, cheering and applauding. Zayn looked completely stunned, Niall hugging him and cheering loudly, Liam starting to cry a little with a huge smile on his face.

 Well.

 One hundred and one point seven five four.

 This was going to be a problem.

 "How solid are your quadruples? Show me," Louis said as soon as he reached Harry. The boy was stretching out and practicing his form.

 Harry looked up, confused. "Uh...sure, Coach."

 He stood up and stretched his arms above his head, and Louis gulped as he watched the almost elegant curve of Harry's back. Goddamn it.

 Harry lowered himself into his starting position, then he reached his foot behind him and dug his toe in, jumping up and getting plenty of air as he whirled himself tightly around four times. He landed with a wobble, but landed all the same, with good form and everything.

 Hmm. Maybe they had a shot, after all.

 "What did Zayn score?" Harry asked as he sat down on a nearby bench and pulled his skates on.

 Louis shifted uncomfortably. "Never mind what Malik got. Scores shouldn't be at the forefront of your mind when you're getting ready to go out on the ice, anyway."

 Harry sighed. "It must have been good. He looked flawless out there."

 "I said don't worry about it," Louis protested, kneeling in front of Harry to make eye contact while Harry laced the skates up. "What you need to focus on is clearing your head. Don't think about anything, okay? Nothing at all. Just feel the music, let your body move the way we've trained it to. Let your jumps come freely, and don't overkill on the spins. You're going to be great, Styles. They're all going to remember you."

 Harry smiled weakly, and Louis stood and held out a helping hand. "You're up after the next contestant."

 They walked past Zayn, who was being interviewed by countless reporters. He had his arm protectively around Liam, who looked beside himself with happiness while still looking at all the cameras shyly. Louis quickly averted his gaze when he saw Niall's head turn in their direction. He really didn't want to have to talk to him until Harry had competed and gotten scores and everything. In fact, if he could just skip talking to Niall altogether, that would be lovely.

 "You're going to show the most heart out there, I know it," Louis encouraged Harry as they reached the side of the rink. The contestant before Harry was in the middle of his routine, and Louis winced with the rest of the crowd as the guy landed wrong from a triple salchow and toppled over.

 "I don't think I can do this."

 Louis turned sharply back around and saw Harry clutching the wall around the rink tightly, struggling to breathe.

 "Hey, hey whoa," Louis started, automatically just putting his hand on Harry's without thinking. "I know you can do this. I know it."

 Harry turned and looked at their hands, then turned to Louis, looking desperate. 

"Lou', I..."

 The crowd began to cheer as the guy competing took his bows and skated off the rink.

 "I don't think I'm brave enough," Harry whispered.

 Louis scowled. "Shut up, Harry. Your one of the bravest people I know. You've never let anything stop you before, why should anything stop you now?"

 The camera people all started walking towards them, and Louis knew it was Harry's turn to compete. He squeezed Harry's hand reassuringly.

 "You've been waiting twelve years for this moment. Go out there and show us just how brave you really are. You can do this. I know it."

 Harry gulped, but simply nodded and pulled off his skate guards obediently, stepping out onto the ice.

 " _Representing the United Kingdom in the short program...Harry Styles_."

 Harry skated out onto the ice, smiling and waving cheerfully. Louis knew Harry wasn't really feeling cheerful, but he knew that Harry was one hell of an expert of pulling off a fake-happy look. He'd done it many times in past competitions, in Olympic trials.

 The crowd applauded as Harry skated around, getting a feel for the ice.

 "Louis Tomlinson? Is that you?"

 Louis winced; well, shit.

 "It _is_ you! Oh my god, Louis, I haven't seen you in _ages_!"

 Louis smiled a forced smile at Niall Horan, who walked right up to him and gave him a huge hug.

 "Hi, Niall. Yeah, it's been a while."

 Niall scoffed. "A while? It's been nearly eight years! How've you been?"

 "I, ah..." Louis glanced out onto the rink to see Harry gently settling into his starting position. "That's actually mine, out there."

 Niall looked completely floored. "You've got a son already?"

 "No, no, absolutely not!" Louis exclaimed a little too loudly. "I've known him for twelve years. He's my, ah..."

 Niall's eyes immediately lit with understanding. "Ah. I see. Well, you sure do pick 'em young, don't you?"

 Louis couldn't do anything but stammer and splutter in protest, and then Harry's music started up.

 Louis immediately forgot that Niall was there. He inched even closer to the rink, watching Harry intently. "Come on, Curly, let's knock 'em dead."

 Harry looked completely in his element. He didn't have a natural element of sexy, the way Zayn did on the ice, but the fluid way his body moved in contrast to the klutzy way he was off-ice was probably the most incredible natural phenomenon Louis had ever seen. There was grace and poise and...dignity, Louis supposed, in Harry's skating. If Zayn was like a panther on skates, Harry was like a lion.

 "He's got a lot of talent," Niall mused, and Louis nodded absently. Harry's choreo turned him to face Louis' way, and the smirk on Harry's face combined with the way he was moving made Louis' heart clench. Holy shit, why couldn't Louis ever get used to that?

 He watched as Harry wove skillfully around the rink, all his technical footwork flawless, all his style bursting forth. Louis started to cross his fingers as Harry got ready for his first jump, his only quadruple jump. He could do this, Louis just knew it. Zayn Malik might be the crowd favorite, but there was more to Harry than most people realized.

 He saw immediately, while Harry was still in the air, that the jump wasn't right. Harry hadn't gotten enough air for a quadruple. He was spinning, but his posture already indicated a fall.

 Harry's toe picks landed first, catapulting him far down the ice. The rest of his body landed as he hit the ice hard on his hip, sliding a few feet and crashing into the wall. The whole audience gasped and winced and muttered "ooh", but Louis hardly cared. He couldn't see or hear or feel anything; his tunnel vision was completely locked in on Harry. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , why had he made the boy do a quadruple jump?!

 And then Harry's face scrunched up, and Louis stomach bottomed out. It was worse. He hadn't just fallen. Harry was hurt. He was really, really hurt.

Harry gripped his side and hip, still grimacing in considerable pain, slowly rolled to face the wall, as far away from Louis as he could be on the ice, and then he wasn't moving. One second. Two seconds.

 "No, fuck, _HARRY_!" Louis shouted, moving towards the door on the ice. He was going out there. He needed to know Harry was okay. This was his fault; how could he have been so stupid?!

 "Whoa, wait!"

 "Let go of me," Louis snarled, turning and glaring at Niall, who had a strong grip on Louis' arms.

 And before he got a reply, he turned and struggled against Niall's grip. "No, no, Harry, come on, move, get up, please, just please get up!"

 Louis watched as Harry's body slowly shifted closer to the wall, one of his arms slowly reaching up and grabbing at the wall weakly.

 "Please, baby, please get up," Louis begged quietly, and he felt tears leaking down his face and didn't care.

 Harry shifted his weight onto his other arm, and he got a better grip on the wall before slowly pushing himself up to stand. The crowd started cheering as he slowly started skating again, his face twisted in pain and his cheeks slick with tears. Louis choked back a sob; oh god, his baby. Harry was hurt, and it was his fault.

 The cheering didn't stop, and Louis gawked as Harry did a quick three turn and started doing crossovers across the ice again.

 "Holy fuck, what is he doing?!" Louis croaked, Niall gently pulling him back and hugging him from behind.

 "Your boy's finishing his routine, Tomlinson."

 "But...but he can't," Louis protested weakly, choking back another sob. "He's really hurt."

 "When did that ever stop either of us?"

 "This is different."

 Louis could hear Niall smiling. "Not at all. It's like 2002 worlds all over again, eh?"

 Louis sniffed and continued to watch Harry. "When I sprained my knee in the free program and you got gold?"

 Niall chuckled. "That was really bad luck, mate. I felt awful; you should have won that year."

 Every muscle in Louis' body clenched as Harry tensed for another jump. Surely Harry wasn't stupid enough to try and jump again. Surely he wasn't about to do this.

But apparently Harry was that stupid, and Louis completely froze as he went into a triple lutz...

 And landed it.

 And then added a triple toe loop and landed that, too.

 Louis sagged back against Niall in relief, blowing out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The whole crowd was on its feet, roaring in applause. Louis felt his heart start to burst with pride, watching Harry continue to skate it out like his life depended on it.

 "Oh my god, I love him," Louis muttered as Harry continued to put on a brave face and successfully jumped into a flying camel spin.

 He heard Niall chuckle behind him. "You ever told him that?"

 "No," Louis breathed, completely enamored with the grace Harry still moved with, despite being in a ton of pain. "But I...I think I ought to."

 Harry continued to skate and threw himself into his ending pose with enthusiasm. The crowd completely lost it, cheering and screaming and everyone jumping to their feet. Louis started clapping, too, and cheering. Even Niall did, stepping away from Louis and cheering loudly, himself.

 Once he'd held the end pose long enough to count, Harry dropped the brave act and his face scrunched up in pain. He gingerly grabbed at his side again, wincing, then gazed curiously around at the crowd, who only got louder once they realized he'd noticed. He looked completely flabbergasted.

 "Yeah, they're cheering, you idiot," Louis muttered, feeling stupid happy tears rolling down his face. Harry had so obviously lost the competition, but no one would know from the way the crowd was cheering. Louis himself had never been prouder.

 Harry's face lit up, and then he looked so happy he might cry. He lifted a hand to his heart, turning around slowly and taking in everyone in the arena, and then took his bows, murmuring "thank you" about a million times.

 Louis stepped up to the edge of the rink and opened the door as Harry started skating over. As he stumbled off the ice, Louis immediately gathered him up in his arms and held him so tightly Louis himself couldn't breathe.

 "Oh my god, you absolute idiot," Louis sobbed against Harry's shoulder.

 Harry chuckled a little, sounding completely exhausted and like he was still in pain. "Hey, you were--ah Jesus Lou' not so tight I'm hurt--you were the one who wanted me to show the most heart."

 Louis scoffed, backing away to glare at Harry, not even really mad. "Fuck you, Styles, I thought you were dying."

 Harry's grin looked absolutely delicious, but Louis was interrupted in this revelation by Niall, who said "go on, Tomlinson, take the boy to the scoring seat already."

 "Come on, then, Curly," Louis said gently, looping his arm gingerly around Harry's waist and helping support Harry's weight all the way over to the scoring seat.

 "Really, what were you thinking?" Louis mumbled as he helped Harry sit down.

 "I wasn't. I'm not supposed to think, remember?"

 Louis felt his heart sink. "Oh, god, Harry, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault, you wouldn't have gotten hurt f I hadn't--"

 Harry snaked one of his arms around Louis' waist and pressed a gentle kiss to Louis' temple. "Stop blaming yourself."

 Louis' brain pleasantly numbed with the contact of Harry's lips, and he took a slow, shaky breath in and out.

 Harry's thumb rubbed gently against Louis' waist, back and forth. "I got up for you. To make you proud. I wanted to finish strong for you."

 Holy fuck. Louis gulped, looking at Harry in astonishment.

 "Me? Your coach?"

 "You aren't just my coach, Lou', and you know it."

 "I...I..." Louis stammered, and he felt like bashing himself over the head for sounding like an idiot. "Well, that's probably true."

 Harry giggled just a little, grinning at Louis with such a sweet look that it took a whole shitload of restraint not to start snogging Harry senseless.

 Louis bumped his hip with Harry's affectionately. "Truth be told, I'm happy I'm not just your coach."

 " _May I have the scores, please_."

 Both of them looked up at the scoreboard, remembering why they were even sitting in the scoring seat at all.

 "It doesn't matter what you score," Louis whispered to Harry, making the skater grin.

 "Well, yeah, seeing as I probably shattered my hip and maybe a couple ribs too," Harry whispered back, wincing.

 " _The short program score for Harry Styles from the United Kingdom.._."

 Louis took Harry's hand and wove his fingers with his, bringing Harry's hand up to his lips and pecking it. "You'll be fine, okay? Fine."

 " _Eighty one point three six four._ "

 Louis grinned; that was better than he'd dared to hope.

 He turned to look at Harry, who was smiling, too. And really, it wasn't like he planned to just grab the back of Harry's neck sort of just crush their lips together. But it happened, and when he pulled away he probably shouldn't have felt as happy as he did at the look of pleasant shock in Harry's face. But he did.

 "So what is this thing you've been trying to tell me today?" Louis asked as they left the scoring seat.

 Harry blushed and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "I, ah...well, that."

 Louis raised an eyebrow, smirking. "That what?"

 "That, uh, that thing that happened over at the, uh..."

 Louis grinned. "So you like me too then?"

 Harry blinked, looking pleasantly astonished. "You _like_ me?!"

 "Really, Styles, you're allowed to use your brain when you get off the ice," Louis teased.

 Harry just looked dazed with happiness. "Wow. Well, _yeah_ , I like you. I thought it was obvious."

 "Hey, Styles!"

 Louis and Harry turned around at the sound of a new voice, one with an accent. Louis blinked; it was Zayn Malik, whose arm was still looped around his boyfriend.

 Harry's eyes widened.

 "Uh...hi."

 Zayn smiled at him. "That took a lot of guts, man. What you just did."

 Harry blushed. "Oh, I, ah--"

 "Coach Horan and Liam and I wanted to know if you both would like to come grab a bite to eat with us. After all your press stuff, of course."

 "And if you're okay," Liam added shyly, motioning at Harry's hip.

 Louis turned to Harry and grinned. "What do you say?"

Harry looked like he was going to faint. "That sounds great."

 

**Author's Note:**

> This one shot was inspired by the Men's short program in figure skating at the Sochi 2014 Olympic Games. Inspiration for Zayn's incredible skating performance comes from Japan's Yuzuru Hanyu, my favorite male figure skater. Inspiration for Harry's unfortunate but inspiring skating performance comes from the United States' Jeremy Abbott. I personally cried watching Abbott's performance. I recommend if you want a good idea of how they actually skated, you look them up on YouTube. They are phenomenal.
> 
> Please comment and let me know your thoughts on this!


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